After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 35

The Huamei might’ve looked fierce and arrogant on the surface, but in truth, it was just a paper tiger—all bark and no bite.

As He Zhizhou so graciously put it: “If this thing is supposed to be the final boss of this floor of the Pagoda Trial, I’ll swallow the entire tower in one bite, no joke.”

Setting aside the possibility that He Zhizhou was just being a glutton again, the fact that the Huamei got wrecked by a single strike from Pei Ji made it obvious: this guy was nothing but a disposable grunt.

Because honestly, if this skeleton freak had been powerful enough to defeat all those elite Golden Core and Nascent Soul disciples, then instead of pursuing the Dao, the Xuanxu Sword Sect should just pack up, shut down, and start busking at the foot of the mountain to make a living.

Right now, the Huamei was completely immobilized, pinned by Pei Ji with a hand around its bony throat. Half its painted skin had peeled off, revealing a chillingly white skull beneath. The other half still clung to its form like damp paper, trembling with fear.

It didn’t dare make a single wrong move. Its beady eyes darted back and forth in panic, so much so that Chen Lubai, still in the room, was scared into shutting her eyes, nearly fainting on the spot.

“You want to save him?”

The skeleton, still wearing half of Chen Yaoguang’s face, shuddered violently. “I—I’ll never tell you! Even if I die!”

The narrator had clearly gone a little unhinged by this point. It let out a dramatic sigh and bellowed with great emotion, as if delivering a rousing battle speech.

“Cornered by these wicked cultivators, faced with their monstrous and terrifying faces, the Huamei knew escape was no longer possible.

Yet even if ahead lay a bottomless abyss, he would throw himself into it without regret! For he was a loyal demon, unshaken by torture, and would never betray his secrets!”

Zheng Weiqi chuckled coldly. “Die? Oh no, we won’t kill you. We’ll just make you wish you were dead. I’ve got plenty of ways to make people talk… How about you pick your favorite?”

She gave him a once-over and added lightly, “And don’t bother trying to commit suicide. You’re just a pile of bones—what are you gonna do, bite your tongue? Starve yourself? Spend a few more days with us, and I promise you’ll learn what it truly means to live with a new surprise every day.”

The narrator began trembling.

“What a vicious woman! Such cruelty defies the heavens! She’s inhuman!”

It was finally learning.

To avoid getting slapped in the face again, all it had to do was assign villain lines to this group, and suddenly everything made sense!

“I—I still have one last move!” the Huamei whimpered, voice full of tears and humiliation. “I—I can retract my Yang… turn my flesh into a blade… and kill myself!”

“Retracting one’s Yang” was such a twisted, forbidden technique that even the most depraved sects rarely mentioned it. Proper cultivators usually blushed red and changed the subject when it came up.

Unexpectedly, Zheng Weiqi looked at him with a gentle, almost pitying expression. She hesitated a moment, then said with quiet sincerity, “No offense, but… getting poked there once isn’t going to kill you, is it?”

The Huamei turned ashen, his skeletal eyes slowly rolling down to glance at his own lower abdomen.

How… how could she know?!

She was even more knowledgeable than a demon like him!

That one sentence completely shattered the skeleton’s final shred of mental defense—along with whatever was left of his masculine pride. There was nothing more terrifying than not being able to die when you desperately wanted to.

After a moment of soul-crushing silence, the Huamei finally broke.

“…Chen Yaoguang… is hidden in a cave behind the mountain.”

…

Chen Yaoguang, the eldest young master of the Chen family, was finally rescued without incident.

When they found him in the cave, he was gaunt as a corpse, skin stretched tight over bone. Clearly, his Yang energy had been drained continuously for days.

If they had arrived even a bit later, they might’ve been retrieving a cadaver fit for a med school dissection class.

Zhao Yunluo, who was still recovering from her own illness, rushed over in a panic the moment she heard, desperate to see her husband.

As soon as Chen Yaoguang laid eyes on his wife, it was like a dying man catching his final breath. With trembling hands, he pulled out a pale grey, heart-shaped stone from his sleeve and offered it to her solemnly.
“Wife, look. I found this in the cave—a natural heart stone, shaped over time by countless storms and collisions. I hope the bond between us can be just like this stone… enduring, unbreakable, and strong enough to withstand any trial.”

Zhao Yunluo’s eyes filled with tears at his words. She threw herself into his arms, and the entire gloomy scene shifted from The Ring straight into a live-action remake of Autumn in My Heart.
Clearly, love didn’t just make couples blind—it made every bystander question their eyesight too.
So sweet it was nauseating.

The Painted Wraith, having harbored malicious intent, was decisively struck down by Zheng Weiqi with a single sword slash. And just like that, the strange incidents at the Chen residence finally came to an end.

Old Master Chen, deeply grateful, invited the four of them to stay a few more days in the estate and hosted a celebratory banquet in their honor.

“Esteemed heroes,” Old Master Chen said warmly, “you may not know, but due to several days of heavy rain, the mountain roads and bridges leading out of Goose City have been blocked by mudslides. You won’t be able to leave the city for a while.”

He was a plump, kind-eyed middle-aged man who seemed born with a gentle temperament. As he spoke, his face never lost its cheerful smile.
“Why not rest here at my estate until the floodwaters pass? Then you can plan your next move.”

Ning Ning almost blurted out that they could just fly their swords over the mountains. As long as she flew high enough, even the most adventurous raindrop wouldn’t dare try her.
But to stay in line with the plot, she exchanged a glance with Zheng Weiqi and simply nodded.
“Then we thank Old Master Chen for his hospitality.”

After days of endless rain, the skies finally cleared. A few golden rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, warming the damp rooftops of the Chen estate.

The banquet was elegant without being extravagant—a true feast in both presentation and taste, like a delicate blend of all flavors under heaven.

Ning Ning ate with such delight she almost forgot to return to the main storyline, until Old Master Chen, chuckling at the table, raised his cup and said, “This time, our Chen family owes its survival to you brave young heroes. Thank you.”

His smile widened as his gaze drifted meaningfully between He Zhizhou and Pei Ji.
“I must say, you are both outstanding young men. Might I ask—are any of you already married?”

Chen Lubai, who was sitting beside him, instantly frowned.
“Father! Why are you always playing matchmaker without warning?”

Compared to his earlier terrifying, skeletal self, Chen Yaoguang now resembled a refined and gentle young noble. He picked up some food and placed it in his wife’s bowl, then leaned in to murmur,
“Apologies. If Father has offended any of you, let me apologize on his behalf—he worries a lot about my sister’s future. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Old Master Chen huffed, straight-faced.
“Don’t think just because you have money now, it’ll last forever. What use is wealth? You can’t take it with you when you die! Better to find a good husband and have a child!”

Chen Lubai muttered under her breath, clearly unconvinced.
“So what, am I supposed to bring my husband and kid with me to the afterlife or something?”

Her logic was flawless—so flawless, in fact, that Old Master Chen was rendered speechless.
After a long pause, he cleared his throat and tried again, this time a bit quieter.
“Look at your little sister—barely six years old, and already following boys around every day. If you won’t worry about it, your father and brother certainly will.”

Chen Lubai shot up in alarm.
“Father! Yue Ming is six! All she does is roll around in the mud with the other kids in town! What do you expect me to do—join them?!”

The second young miss of the Chen family, little Chen Yueming, was a tiny dumpling of a girl. Her expression darkened at her sister’s words and she pouted,
“We’re not playing in the mud. We’re cooking meals for our babies!”

Old Master Chen burst out laughing.
“See? Even Yue Ming knows what parents do! Yue Ming, are you the father or the mother?”

Chen Yueming answered proudly,
“Neither! I’m the family’s Prosperity Pup, here just to eat!”

—Wait a second. Isn’t that just a dog?!

Chen Lubai’s eye twitched. She finally stopped shoveling food into her mouth and slammed her chopsticks down.
“No! My little sister must be our family’s Ancestor! Who told you to be a dog?! I’ll beat him up tomorrow!”

Little Yue Ming’s eyes welled up with tears.
“But Ancestor is already dead… Sister, I don’t want to die yet. I wanna keep living…”

“I think Lubai’s fine the way she is.”

Zhao Yunluo, now free from the Painted Wraith’s energy drain, no longer looked like the walking dead. She was beautiful to begin with, and now, with a soft smile under the setting sun, her face glowed with a delicate blush—like a goddess descended from the heavens.

Zhao Yunluo said calmly, “A woman doesn’t necessarily need to rely on a husband’s family. Look at Lubai—she lives freely under our roof, unrestrained, with loved ones nearby to care for her. If she truly married out, I’d only worry whether she might be wronged.”

Chen Lubai lit up like fireworks in the night sky, throwing her arms up with glee. “Sister-in-law is the best!”

Chen Yaoguang shot his wife a glance and let out a helpless chuckle. “You really spoil her.”

The scene was warm, familial, even a little too harmonious. Ningning sat quietly, picking at her food, but a weight pressed heavily against her chest—as though a stone had been wedged there, making it hard to breathe.

The death of the Hua Mei (Painting Wraith) hadn’t ended the illusion, which meant the plot wasn’t over.

But right now, the Chen residence felt completely at odds with any looming crisis. It was almost too serene—like a narcissus blooming in a grimy sewer. No matter how pure and elegant it appeared, it gave off a deeply uncanny feeling.

By the time the victory banquet concluded, dusk had fallen. Chen Lubai, ever the lively one, volunteered to take everyone for a stroll around Goose City.

Goose City was a small county town. Modest in size, its name wasn’t particularly poetic, but its scenery was captivating—bridges arched over gentle waters, and willows leaned flirtatiously toward the banks, giving it a touch of southern charm.

“How odd,” murmured Zheng Weiqi. “Goose City… why does that sound familiar?”

She thought long and hard, frowning slightly. “Where have I heard it before?”

Just then, He Zhizhou walked up, chewing happily on a skewer of candied hawthorn. “Maybe you’re just hungry for goose, and your brain got a bit scrambled.”

Chen Lubai was clearly popular with the locals—no sooner had they stepped into the marketplace than vendors began calling out to her enthusiastically.

Yet this daughter of the Chen family didn’t put on any airs. She could go from poetry and philosophy to the blacksmith’s wife giving birth, or the Li family’s son passing his scholar’s exam. Her chatter alone could fill half a volume of The People of Goose City.

Ningning watched with interest, clicking her tongue in admiration as she scanned the surroundings—only to spot a familiar figure tucked away in the shadowy mouth of an alley.

It was none other than little Chen Yueming, the second young lady of the Chen family. She was squatting with a group of children, mixing mud and wild grass into bowls and stirring enthusiastically.

Their boisterous noise drew the others’ attention.

Though Chen Lubai was lively, she still maintained some grace as a noble lady. There was no way she’d start playing in the mud in public. She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Yueming!”

The little girl, whose face bore a striking resemblance to her sister’s, looked up with a beaming smile. “Sister!”

Catching sight of the four guests behind her, she puffed up proudly and announced to her playmates, “Look! Those are the immortals who came to my house to slay demons!”

Predictably, a wave of awe rippled through the group.

“Big brother, big sister, can you fly?”

“I want to see sword dancing!”

“Do immortals like candied hawthorn too?”

Zheng Weiqi, having ventured down the mountain multiple times, was already well-versed in handling children. She gave a soft smile, exuding the calm demeanor of a sage unfazed by worldly matters. “Since you want to see it, allow me to give a little demonstration. What do you say?”

A chorus of excited gasps erupted like popping firecrackers.

As a cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage, Zheng Weiqi obviously wasn’t about to go full force in the middle of the street. The word “dance” in sword dance implied grace, rhythm, and performance over brute power.

With a flick, her sword left its sheath, slicing through a beam of sunlight.

Her movements were swift yet fluid, her white robes fluttering as her sword traced elegant arcs like a swimming dragon. She had restrained most of her spiritual energy, infusing her form with more freedom and flair than actual lethality.

Thanks to her astonishing speed, to the naked eye she appeared as little more than a blur of swordlight, her steps like gusts of wind.

A few tufts of willow fluff drifted through the air. Almost imperceptible to ordinary sight, they floated gently on the breeze—until her sword struck with perfect precision, slicing each strand into shimmering pieces that scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.

As she sheathed her sword, Zheng Weiqi raised an eyebrow and smiled with confidence. “How was that?”

“I know!” a child burst out, eyes sparkling. “Big sister was copying Skewering the Wild Boar by Moonlight in the Melon Fields! Up down up down, just like that!”

A little girl next to him immediately disagreed. “No way! That was Monkey Leaping the Mountain!”

Zheng Weiqi: “……”

Zheng Weiqi silently took a step back, her face expressionless, only wanting to bash her head against a block of tofu and die.

Her sword-dance performance had ended in anything but grace. The moment she was done, the kids’ attention instantly shifted to Ningning.

Regardless of age, people always gravitate toward beauty—and in Goose City, Ningning’s delicate appearance stood out like a pearl in the mud, immediately capturing the children’s curiosity.

Under their intense stares, Ningning felt uneasy. There’s no piano or violin here. Singing and dancing? Absolutely not. If she performed swordplay like a regular sword cultivator, she feared her fate would mirror Zheng Weiqi’s.

She could already imagine the post-performance commentary.

“Wow! Why is that snake twitching like it’s having a seizure?!”

Or: “Look! A bedsheet flapping in the wind!”

Please, have mercy.

The kids were looking at her with sparkling eyes full of admiration, making it hard to reject them outright. After a moment of thought, a lightbulb went off in her head. She smiled sweetly and said, “Big sister will show you a real trick!”

All the little bean sprouts—led by Chen Yueming—widened their eyes in anticipation.

Then, they watched as the beautiful older sister unsheathed her longsword… and pointed it straight at herself.

Ningning’s expression was calm. She even threw them a wink. “Watch closely, now.”

No warning, no hesitation—she barged into their little worlds like a chaotic surprise, utterly uninvited yet impossible to ignore.

The children were, after all, still children. What they experienced next could only be described as psychological trauma.

That celestial-like big sister stared at them with the calm of a Bodhisattva… and began pushing the sword into her mouth.

She even smiled.

This… was her signature act.

So pure, so raw, and so timeless. It stood firm through five thousand years of Chinese civilization—earthy, grounded, and deeply representative of the sword cultivator tradition. Wherever the martial world existed, there would always be the legend of—

Sword Swallowing.

Ningning was very pleased with her performance.

Unfortunately, the children—who hadn’t even seen a real longsword in their short lives—did not share that sentiment.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping open like a horror story ghost on the prowl. With her unblinking stare fixed right on them, she practically screamed.

“I just swallowed a sword. Next up: raw children.”

The three disciples standing nearby each wore their own version of a collapsed expression.

The sword kept sliding deeper, its hilt shrinking from view. Because the kids were facing her head-on, they couldn’t see the back of her head—and that made it worse. In their minds, she’d already skewered herself through the skull. Her brain? Now red tofu pudding.

What did they do to deserve this fate?
Why did destiny choose to bludgeon them like this?

The alley froze, like a paused film.

And then—

“WAAAHHH!”
A wail exploded through the street like a chain reaction.

He Zhi Zhou realized things had gone horribly wrong and rushed to restrain Ningning, his face plastered with a greasy smile so thick you could fry dumplings with it.

“I was once the darling of the brothels,” he murmured confidently, “I got this. Leave the brats to me.”

Zheng Weiqi shivered. Whenever this man opened his mouth, nothing good followed.

The children were crying their lungs out, sounding like a chorus of broken toilets clogged with grief.

He Zhi Zhou’s smile remained untouched. “Don’t cry, sweet babies! Big Brother will sing for you now.”

No one responded. He wasn’t fazed.

Adjusting his posture dramatically, he opened his mouth—and sang with tender emotion:

“Snowflakes flutter,
North wind howls…
The world… so vast, so gray…”

This was his signature number. He never offered his body, only his art. Every time he performed this, the stage erupted in cheers and admiration.

He sang with passion, voice trembling with tender sorrow. To add some flair, he even used his spiritual power to conjure little orbs of light—like fluffy snowflakes drifting from his palm. When they hit the ground, they shattered into sparks like tiny falling stars.

The kids cried harder.

One was so scared he foamed at the mouth.
Another dropped to the ground, scrambling on all fours.
One even buried her face into a pile of dirt, leaving only her twitching back visible like a worm in shock.

A neighbor from afar couldn’t take it anymore and yelled, “What the hell’s going on in that alley?!”

Gasping between sobs, Chen Yueming wailed out from the chaos of crawling toddlers:

“My sister killed herself! And now my brother’s singing her a funeral song and burning paper money!”